


Calm

by DarkxPrince



Series: Fading Fires [4]
Category: Dark Souls III
Genre: Writing Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 01:26:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13602672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkxPrince/pseuds/DarkxPrince
Summary: Writing Prompt - Write a piece about the calm after a battle.





	Calm

_**Atarah** _

Atarah sheathed her sword and fastened Yorshka’s Chime to her belt, grateful that the fighting appeared to be over ... for now. If this long journey had taught her anything, it was that the dead do not stay dead for long. Behind her, Maraiam sheathed her own sword, the signature sword of the Black Knights, peeking over the other woman’s shoulder. Off to the side, Atarah could hear Isasi’s pyromancy flame simmer down as the older woman stopped feeding it power.

It was rare for the three women to be out at the same time, usually their respected journeys demanded that they journey alone. It was a strange occurrence indeed for all three of their interests to align. They were traveling through what was left of the Demon Ruins: that ancient place where the Flame of Chaos was formed; where demons were born; and where, it was said, that all pyromancies were first learned. Atarah could still feel the ancient magicks that the Witch of Izalith used to try and recreate the First Flame. In fact, Atarah could still see and feel the embers which burned within the ancient roots of what was once the Bed of Chaos.

So what could possibly bring the three of them down to this ancient and accursed place? As always, Isasi, being a Desert Pyromancer, was fascinated by the Flame of Chaos and wished to study all that she could. Maraiam, on the other hand, was here for far more practical reasons. Being a Black Knight, Maraiam had dealt with dozens of Chaos Demons, the female knight had sworn to carry out her ancient lord’s decree to destroy all demons. And Atarah? Atarah wasn’t really sure why she was down here with the other women. Perhaps she just missed the company of other people who still had their own minds.

Perhaps even, she was just looking to rekindle her faith. Of course, that begged the question; her faith in what? In herself, perhaps? In her honor and purpose within the Blades of the Darkmoon? Anri’s death - and the ritual she took part in - shook her far more than she had first realized. When she had first donned this brass armor, she had thought her faith was still strong ... she had been wrong. The once mighty Sunlit Spears, which could fell dragons, dwindled to nothing more than sparks. The once magnificent Soothing Sunlight, which could fully heal those near death, barely managed to heal several cuts.

Was she really expecting to find anything to renew her faith down here in the ruins of Izalith? Where the Chaos Flame was all but extinguished and the demons themselves all but dying out? She doubted that she would find anything anywhere within this death addled world that could rekindled her faith. But maybe ... just maybe ... she could hold out hope for something.

_**Maraiam** _

Maraiam strode through the Demon Ruins, Atarah and Isasi close behind her. It felt so strange to travel with other people, it had been literal ages since she had fought side by side with another. She had been on her own ever since Lord Gwyn linked the First Flame; she and her fellow Silver Knights followed him and that magnificent flame turned them into the Black Knights that they were now. While the other two women were leagues behind the skill and discipline of the Silver Company, both Isasi and Atarah were skillful in their own right.

Maraiam had fought beside Atarah in the past and had witnessed the miracles that the other woman could perform. Maraiam had heard tales of the prowess of the Blades of the Darkmoon, and certainly Atarah was among the most powerful of its members. Still, Maraiam couldn’t help but notice something different about the miracles that she cast. The spells seemed weaker, somehow, and Atarah was relying more on her sword as well. Isasi, however, appeared to be at her strongest here. There were few Pyromancers whom had control over the flame as Isasi had, and fewer still who could summon a firestorm as great as she. As if drawing power from this ancient place, Maraiam could almost feel the chaos energy lacing itself into the pyromancer’s flame.

Maraiam glanced down at her blackened gauntlet, oaths from long forgotten ages haunting her mind. The same oath she swore when she first joined the ranks of the Silver Knights and the same oath the Silver Company swore when they followed Lord Gwyn into the First Flame. To fight by his side and destroy his enemies so completely that they were wiped from the face of history. She had always prided herself on her loyalty and dedication to Lord Gwyn, carrying out his orders with brutal efficiency. And that was why she was down here, carrying out his order to exterminate the demons born of chaos.

Yet she had been fighting for so long, and not just against demons but against the dragons as well. Yet still, there were literal centuries when she fought against anything that dared to cross her path. She was loyal still, to Lord Gwyn and his orders. She knew she must uphold her oath. Yet now she found herself doubtful and weary of this constant struggle. If she upheld her oath, and saw that the First Flame was linked once again, what would happen to her? Would she once again turn into a mindless monster and roam the lands? Slaughtering all who stood before her?

She clenched her fist, drew her sword and strode through the archway. It would do no good to doubt herself and her mission now. Distractions could prove fatal in any fight and she would not be beaten by mere demons. Yet still, somewhere far back in the corners of her mind, the doubt continued to grow. Perhaps she may find her answers somewhere along this long journey, but for now she would uphold her oath.

_**Isasi** _

Isasi stared into the dwindling Flame of Chaos, unable to contain her awe. She had done it! She had finally done what all other pyromancers could not! Here, at the back of the Old Demon King’s chamber, resided what remained of the flame. It was stunning the way the flame danced and lapped around the wood which gave it life. Yet it was also sad, that this once magnificent and deadly thing was so weak and nearly gone from the world for all time. 

Isasi ignored Maraiam and Atarah as the other women left the chamber. It was better that way, she didn’t need the distraction of other people while she studied the flame. Smiling to herself, she crossed her legs and cupped the flame in her hands. It pulsed as if it was a living heart, and perhaps it was. It did, after all, birth all of demonkind. She closed her eyes, and reached out with her magicks, trying to feed and sustain the flame. She could feel it reach out to her in response. If the Flame of Chaos was truly alive, it felt as if it wanted her to learn from it. She could almost make out the whispers at the back of her mind.

At first it was difficult to make out the voices, no doubt it was the souls of the demons screaming out. It was strange that something with so many souls held within it, was so weak. Though, perhaps like any flame, even the Flame of Chaos needed to be rekindled. If that was the case, then what was needed to rekindle the Flame of Chaos? Of course, if it was rekindled, did that mean the demons would regain their strength? Yet Isasi did not care about the demons - she  _needed_  to learn all that she could. She couldn’t understand the language of demons, although she truly didn’t have to.

There was an ancient voice, so faded and muffled that it was barely even a whisper and Isasi wasn’t even sure she had heard it at first. That ancient voice called out to her, beckoning her closer and closer until the screams of the demons were no more and only it remained. Instinctively, Isasi knew the owner of the voice, it called out to the flame nestled inside of Isasi’s breast like a mother to a child. The presence of this ancient soul enveloped her and opened itself to her. The elder pyromancer nearly wept in joy as her mind was shown ancient secrets of pyromancy that others of her kind had only ever dreamed of.

Isasi knew that this knowledge could not be lost to the ages. Yet she also knew that she herself could not rekindle the Flame of Chaos ... but perhaps she didn’t need to. She opened her eyes and gazed down at the Chaos Flame pulsing in her hands. If she could not rekindle it like the Chaos Demons could ... perhaps she could merge it with her own pyromancy flame and sustain it that way. She held the Flame of Chaos close to her chest, amazed as it seemed to merge with her very soul. Part of Isasi knew that she could very easily be overwhelmed by this ancient flame like Izalith so many eons ago ... yet she did not care. Isasi would do anything to ensure that she could continue to learn from the Flame of Chaos.

Fire exploded out of her as she and the Flame of Chaos became one. Isasi returned to her feet, thankful that she was still herself and the flame had not overtaken her soul. The elder pyromancer engulfed her hand in flame, the fire now darker in color as it was laced with the power of chaos. Isasi closed her fist and made her way out of the Demon King’s chambers. That ancient voice continued to whisper to her in the back of her mind, joined now by the other souls of demons. Isasi smiled behind her veil, there was still so much left for her to learn.


End file.
